


Skincare Revolution

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Clingfilm, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual skin care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Breekon and Hope try out a new technique to enhance the quality of Jon's skin.





	Skincare Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Written over a year ago for 100 words of your fave wrapped in clingfilm, finally getting around to posting it on AO3. Set during S3.

Breekon and Hope had purchased an ominous quantity of cling film. Why, Jon hadn’t a clue, simply watching with increasing trepidation as the teetering stacks grew before him. They plodded in and out of the room, again and again, carrying armfuls of the stuff in a dizzying array of brands. Had they ransacked every Tesco, Sainsbury’s and Asda in London? Jon made a muffled noise of inquiry, but was ignored. Typical. He was almost getting used to being alternately tortured and treated like a grotesque piece of furniture.

“That all of it?” said Breekon, scratching his head in an exaggerated manner, having learned to mimic human gestures by rote. 

“That’s all,” Hope replied. 

Always that echo, the back and forth between them. Created as a pair, almost certainly, but how, and why? If they removed the gag, would he be able to take their statements?

“Let’s get him out then.”

An entirely academic question, since they never removed the gag, preferring to simply shove lotion roughly around it, the taste of it inevitable and revolting on Jon’s tongue. And it seemed it was time for another one of their unpleasant massages, fumbling rough hands pressing almost hard enough to bruise, digging into places he dearly wished they’d forget. 

Breekon began to untie him while Hope lumbered across the room, selecting the largest bottle of lotion and then setting it on the table beside him. As Breekon dragged Jon to his feet, one large hand wrapped around his crossed wrists, Hope turned to Breekon with a parodic frown. 

“How much are we gonna need?”

Breekon pitched his head to the side, giving him a striking resemblance to a particularly unfortunate bulldog. 

“Better get a lot. He’s not big, but rolls aren’t big either.”

“Righto,” Hope said, gathering up an armful of boxes and setting them next to the lotion. “We’re putting this on him?”

Nightmarish visions filled Jon’s head. Of them applying on the cling film and it coming away with his skin. Or perhaps it was for after the skin was gone, leaving only the cling film holding him together, inadequate and yet somehow enough to keep him alive and wishing he desperately for death. For the first time in days, he considered trying to run. As if sensing his desire, Breekon’s hand tightened, and Jon hissed. That would definitely bruise.

“Girl at the store said it would help.”

“Read it in the Mail, she did.”

“_The Japanese Skincare Revolution._”

“And Miss Orsinov wants to speed it up.”

“Get ready sooner.”

“Now don’t you struggle”

“We got a deadline.”

“Easier if you don’t.”

Like Jon could do anything but snarl into the gag. Like he had any hope of resisting. Like it wasn’t all some ridiculous pretense, the way they slung banter back and forth, playing at being human. Hope squirted lotion on one large hand. Breekon pushed him forward. Jon gritted his teeth, and tried to think of anything but the wrongness of those leathery hands running down his chest.

Poetry, perhaps. _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore._ Rather apropos, but unfortunately Jon had never been much for poetry, and didn’t know the next line. Perhaps Martin would have, though Poe didn’t seem quite his type. Jon snorted, then squeaked as Breekon bent him roughly over the table. Time for the back, then. It was almost mundane now, a routine repeated so many times Jon had lost count. And while their caresses were not truly pleasant, it was certainly better than Nikola. So he closed his eyes and bit the gag and ignored them as best he could. 

“Now the cling film?”

“S’what the girl said.”

Oh, for the love of—

He let out a grunt of pain as his arms were yanked roughly over his head, almost tearing them out of the socket. What would Nikola think, he wanted to say, ruining the skin. Bile rose in his throat. Was that really how he was thinking now? But no, it was only logical. Speak their language. If he could speak at all. 

“Do it all over?” Hope held out a length of shiny plastic at chest height.

“Yeah, but do the legs separate.” 

Hope shrugged, and began to wrap Jon’s chest. It clung unpleasantly, wrinkling and bunching like a second skin that didn’t quite fit. Like what they planned to make of Jon. No wonder they’d been so taken with the idea, it really was quite up their alley. As Hope reached his groin, Jon tensed for a moment, then relaxed as Hope continued slowly circling his body. At least he’d be spared this particular indecency.

“Switch?” Hope said.

“Gotcha,” Breekon replied, Hope taking his hands and Breekon a new box of cling film. Slowly down one leg, then the other, and tapping Jon’s ankles to make him lift his feet. As he set each back down, the cling film slipped against his skin. If he tried to run now, he would certainly fall. Brilliant, and entirely unintentional. 

Breekon took an arm from Hope, and began enfolding it as well, hand turning into a mitten as they neglected to wrap his fingers separately. Sweat crept across Jon’ brow and ran down his sticky back and chest. Not exactly a porous material, and he was certainly feeling the effects. Perhaps if he passed out, they’d let down their guard. Or simply give it up and skin him as is. A toss up, really.

The other arm complete, Jon had the sinking realization that all that was left was his face. Both creatures gave him a considering look, then turned to each other.

“Think we should do it?”

“It’s not that nice anyway, and Nikola wants him alive.”

Had they just called him ugly? While Jon was far from vain and perhaps lacked the conventional sort of charm, he certainly wasn’t as bad as all that. He wriggled with mild indignity and attempted to utter a protest, thought it was muffled as always by the gag.

Then his brain caught up, as Hope tied his legs back down and Breekon took care of his arms. If they bundled up his face, he’d almost certainly die. Better that these monsters thought him hideous, than try to commit any further indignities.

And anyway, it wasn’t like they had any place to judge. They barely looked human at all, and their skin needed far more work than his. 

So Jon slumped back against the chair, the squelch and squeak of plastic and lotion harmonizing into a discordant melody as Breekon and Hope stumped away, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. 

Truly, the Mail had a lot to answer for.

**Author's Note:**

> The article referenced does exists, found while I was Googling cling film related skin care.


End file.
